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June 9, 2016

Clifford (1996)

Alexander Review 1990s, Cliffordesque, Martin Short 0 Comments

Clifford

“It’s bad in a new way all its own. There is something extraterrestrial about it, as if it’s based on the sense of humor of an alien race with a completely different relationship to the physical universe. The movie is so odd, it’s almost worth seeing just because we’ll never see anything like it again. I hope.” – Roger Ebert

I sent my co-conspirator these words of Ebert wisdom knowing they would make the movie irresistible to him, and inspire him to track it down. I knew not what I did, and I beg forgiveness of the movie saints.   He gave to me the apple and I ate of it.

It begins with an inscrutable framing device involving a Catholic school in the future, before revealing itself to be a vehicle for the antics of Martin Short, portraying a mischievous, unsettling child wreaking havoc through the world of uncomprehending adults, mostly his uncle (Charles Grodin) and his fiance (Mary Steenburgen). These are actors who can certainly do a standard PG comedy as easily as anything, and yet their performances have a persistent stilted strangeness here.

Martin Short

“If Clifford is not a real little boy, then what is he? The movie doesn’t know and neither does the audience, and for much of the running time we sit there staring stupefied at the screen, trying to figure out what the hell we’re supposed to be thinking.” – Roger Ebert.

It’s essentially a ‘90s family comedy, superficially like any other, but pervaded by an evil, alien presence attempting constantly to claw through its surface. I cannot bring myself to describe it further, directly, but I will attempt to outline the malignant vision it has bestowed on us.

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Not from the movie, just how we felt about it.

Cliffordesque.

This is the word we now hold in our troubled hearts. We keepers of the word cannot tell you what it means, and for God’s sake don’t ask us to show you. It is to Lynchian roughly as Lynchian is to everything else.

The Cliffordesque cannot be considered bad. The Cliffordesque inhabits a world to which no aesthetic values familiar to us can apply. It is almost like the persistent strangeness of Nic Cage’s performance in Vampire’s Kiss (1988); but Vampire’s Kiss combines recognizable genres and in so doing becomes the pinnacle of each of them; Clifford has an unnerving family resemblance to a single genre.

It’s a nightmarish quality, like walking into your kitchen and having the unassailable feeling that all its contents have been quietly replaced with exact replicas of those things—that’s how Clifford relates to the ’90s family comedy that it almost seems to be. It takes you to a place where genre itself is obliterated, where you doubt the existence of film, and then of reality. After an hour and a half in its world, the movie makes you want to hug someone, or have a real human conversation, to make sure both you and the world before your eyes are actually real and here to stay.

It is a sitcom theme song played on a saxophone made from a human thigh bone. It is a toddler’s birthday party thrown for an 80 year old man. It is a teddy bear with watering human eyes, staring at you unblinking from the corner of a room that will never, truly, be yours again.

This we have witnessed in this Year of Our Lord 2016, and this is our review.

Grodin

“I underestimated the Evil One. Well, Clifford, what shall we do? Whatever shall we do now?”

June 5, 2016

The Beginnings of a Cinematic Odyssey

Jeremiah Review, The Big Picture Asylum, Carrie, journey, lesbian vampire 0 Comments

Just going to blaze through some of the first amateur explosions of the senses we passed through on our way to true science.  We started like many of you, enjoying mainstream bullshit and rarely dipping into the B-movie realm except to make fun of it.  Our interest in submitting ourselves to obscure B-movies was given a helping hand by Red Letter Media’s Best of the Worst series where we realized an entire world of entertainment was lurking in the shadows and begged to be brought into the light and gawked at for its deformities.
We started this mission with a few beers and an interest in seeing fake blood and real tits.  We don’t own things, so we searched Netflix for ‘lesbian vampires’ and came up with:

We Are The Night – 2010
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We were surprised that we couldn’t laugh at this movie as much as we intended, it was the vague newer b-movie that we were looking for, but it was actually ok, relatively speaking.
There’s a trio of vampiresses feeding in Berlin nightclubs. There’s the eccentric young raver, there’s the raven-haired sleek ex-movie starlet from the roaring twenties, and there’s the dominant blonde matriarch of of the group (cough, Germany).
The matriarch is on an endless hunt for the reincarnation of the vampiress that bit her, in her search she turns a new recruit, a pickpocket whose ties to a human male (copboyfriend) will ultimately bring down the entire coven.
When the movie gets into action or special effects it gets a little too low-rent Matrixy and is not interesting, but it handles the caricatured aspects of its four vampiresses very well.

charlotteBy far the best character is Charlotte (played by Jennifer Ulrich) the melancholy 20’s starlet vampire, who was taken from her young daughter to become a vampire.

The one scene that stuck with me after the first viewing is when Charlotte is singing a lullaby to a dying old woman; her estranged daughter who wakes and recognizes her as her mother.
Captain America: Winter Soldier did a similar scene in 2014, but, in my opinion, this one just has a little more heart and kick to it, despite the silliness of it all.

I guess after that last plunge into the depths went so well, we thought we’d dip into some more trodden …rivers or… whatever analogy: We took the river more trodden by, sure

Carrie – 1976
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You know this one, it’s supposedly a classic, there’s a girl and a prom and the cow blood goes on her and she can kill her mom with her brain or something, there’s an evil Jesus living under her stairs, John Travolta is young.
The movie opens with a group shower scene that ends in puberty… and then nothing else happens for a long time.  This was on Netflix because the remake had just come out.  That’s all I have to say about this.  Some people probably like it for good reasons, I don’t.  And but also me neither.  The mom was pretty creepy though.

Obviously our “lesbian vampire” Netflix search yielded more than one result (and oh, what fruits would later fall from just such a tree!), so we went back to our birthing grounds for a second helping.

The Countess – 2009
countess

Directed, Starring, Written by and Musiced by Julie Delpy.
Also starring William -I am a soft-spoken block of wood- Hurt.

When it comes to vampire lore, Elizabeth Bathory is the female equivalent of Vlad the Impaler.  Basically some people have argued that Dracula himself takes almost nothing but his name from Vlad Drakul, and everything else from Bathory.  Her story of deranged unquestioned oligarchy raping and torturing young girls and literally bathing in children’s blood has limitless potential.  This movie realizes none of it and opts for a story of a woman whose failed liaison makes her feel not-pretty, so she starts murdering people.  Any Snow White adaptation has done more with this evil queen character.
If you want to write a hyper-realistic version of Elizabeth Bathory removing all the stigma and paranormal elements of her legacy, fine, that’s acceptable, but if you’re going to write a no-nonsense biographical story about a woman who was balls-deep in lesbian sadism before lesbian or sadism were recognizable English words, her psychological state as a serial killer should stem from something a little more grandiose than a harlequinesque fling with a younger man.

WilliamHurtactual block of woodactual block of woodWilliam Hurt (left) actual Block of Wood (right)

If you want a better vampire story ending with someone being buried alive in a wall watch Angel Season 1 Episode 5: Rm w/a Vu.  Yes do that.

Battledogs – 2013
Battledogs-2013

I -Jeremiah- LOVE werewolves.  I love low budget movies.  I love campy action.  This movie can suck a bag of dead cocks.
Look.  There’s trash and there’s trash.  Some trash you make a dress out of and dance around greeting pedestrians like a Satanic mall santa.  Some trash, you just throw in the trash.  Fuck this movie.
When you start watching weird movies you can get to some pretty awesome places, but you can never predict when you’re gonna land one big fat stinker.  It is important that we mention these failures so as to guide you.  If Lewis & Clark never kidnapped Sacagawea we still wouldn’t know where Tennessee is, you know what I’m sayin?  If there be monsters here, put it on the map.

‘But hey, fucker!’ you might ask, ‘I thought you liked bad movies?’

I respect poor filmmaking when it is a labor of love, I respect doing your best to make a thing you love even if your best sucks.  Unless that thing you love is money.
I even love parody and mimicry of bad filmmaking if it’s done well.  (see Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place – like actually see it.  Just stop whatever you’re doing in life and see it.)
And I don’t want to sound like a naive starlet here, but I’m ok with doing sharknados (SFX-Porn’s version of nudity) if it’s in service of the plot.

The type of productions made by The Asylum and SyFy (like Battledogs and Sharknado) try and fail to attain the ‘so bad it’s good’ quality coveted in our ironic times, both their means and ends are cynical and base, they wear funny hats and do any self-degrading thing they can think of to get you to laugh at how garishly absurd they can be—they are the Jim Carrey of film.

No matter how “bad” a movie (or any form of art) is, it’s like a message in a bottle, it may be the suicidal ramblings of a toddler, or a love letter from someone who doesn’t speak your language to someone who is not you.  But in some strange way it’s there, it’s for you, and you’re consuming it and letting it become part of you.
The Asylum and SyFy brand of intentional tripe sends you a thousand bottles washed up on the beach and they all say “Hey! You found my bottle! You have syphilis now!”

June 1, 2016

Cat People (1942)

Alexander Recycled, Review 1940s, Cat People, Jacques Tourneur, noir, Val Lewton 1 Comment

This movie from 1942 was remade–sort of–in 1982, as a wildly different animal. We’ll be reviewing that one soon, but for now, here’s our take on the original, with three two interpretations.

Cat People (1942)

Prod. Val Lewton. Dir. Jacques Tourneur.

Cat People the elder is a polished, well-made movie from a time that appreciated the simple craft of film-making. It tells a deceptively simple story about four people and one panther, and the bit characters that drift in are characterized really deftly. It begins with a quote:

“Even as fog continues to lie in the valleys, so does ancient sin cling to the low places, the depressions in the world consciousness.” The Anatomy of Atavism– Dr. Louis Judd
This opening quote is so awesome, the only disappointment was realizing, when he shows up in the movie later, that Dr. Louis Judd is not a real person and I can’t track down this book and read it.

The movie proper starts with a Meet Cute outside a panther cage at the zoo, where Irena (Simone Simon) is drawing the panther and failing to throw her crumpled firstfruits into the garbage can. Her future man, Oliver (Kent Smith) (but let’s call him America), corrects her LITTERING SIN and points to the sign that says “Let no one say, and say it to your shame, / That all was beauty here, until you came.”
The fact that we would just write “NO LITTERING” now, or pictographs to that effect, shows an actual non-imagined decline in us as a culture.  Greatest Generation IN-DEED.

Adorbs

Adorbs

America carries Irena’s… stool? (an artist’s stool for painting panthers) back to her apartment and gets himself invited up for tea. He stays till dark, when they can hear the lions roaring from the zoo; apparently Irena can hear them many nights, but she doesn’t mind because “to me it’s the way the sound of the sea is to others: natural, and soothing.” He asks about the statue she has of a mounted man with a cat impaled on his sword, which she says is King John of Serbia, who cleared the evildoers and witches from her village, though stories about them remain. He gets her a cat as a present, as one does when someone tells you that cats symbolize evil and witchcraft in their culture. Two scenes later they’re married.

"You're so normal, you're even in love with me, Oliver Reed, a good plain Americano." - actual line

“You’re so normal, you’re even in love with me, Oliver Reed, a good plain Americano.” – actual line

Once married, we find out that she believes that something evil in her will come out if she becomes physically intimate (the movie adorably 1940ses around what it’s really talking about) and America is willing to wait seemingly forever (forever turns out to be about a month of no sex) for her to get through this fear.

He gets her hooked up with a psychiatrist (Dr. Louis Judd, of opening quote fame) but she only sees him once. Dr. Judd is a true doctor, who says things like “Sometimes there is a psychic need to unleash evil into the world,” and generally seems to be from the 1890s instead of the 1940s, talking like Lord Henry Wotton and carrying a sword-stick.

Meanwhile she becomes jealous of America’s closeness with Alice the New Woman, his coworker. She stalks Alice in pantheress form through two of the coolest sequences of the movie (!!!!): one where Alice thinks (correctly) that she’s being followed down the street, the other when she goes for a swim in her building’s indoor pool at night, and Irena follows her down. The first scene ends with an amazing sound effect, where they make a bus coming to a stop sound like a panther roaring, my single favorite touch in the movie. The pool scene is ominous and they have fun with shadow and the weird, echoey acoustics of the pool. (GOD THIS IS SCARY – it really gets that childhood fear of a panther being in your swimming pool.)

Pantherpool

Irena keeps revisiting the panther cage at the zoo, and passes up an opportunity to take the key from the absent-minded janitor. Dr. Judd pops up to psychologize her:
“You resist temptation admirably.”
“Temptation?”
“The, uh, key.”
“Why would I want it?”
“For many reasons. There is in some cases a psychic need to unleash evil into the world, [pretty much why we started this blog, really] and all of us carry within us a desire for death. You fear the panther, yet you’re drawn to him, again and again. Couldn’t you turn to him as an instrument of death?”
. . .
😀
“I don’t think you can help me. You’re very wise, you know a great deal, yet when you speak of the soul you mean the mind. And it is not my mind that is troubled.” [<- she never lied to us, you see? (See Interpretation II)] <3

Irena

Later, our noble doctor decides to enact his own “desire for death” by kissing Irena, provoking her to maul the shit out of him, though in the process he leaves his broken-off sword blade in her. She runs to the zoo and lets out the panther, falling dead as he leaps past her. to be instantly struck by a car.  When America and Alice get to the scene, they find her dead in panther form, and America utters the movie’s final line, “She never lied to us.”

This is a top notch b&w drama that spirals into some murder-panther shit, but not in a “twist ending” kinda way, rather a “this was meant to be” way.  For what it is I can’t imagine a better version of it.  For every Sherlock Holmes that promised supernatural but then had a ‘logical’ ‘explanation’ for it, this one delivers.

Interpretation I: Panther Lesbians (Alexander)

Here’s the lesbian angle, in brief:

Irena finds that in modern America, there is a certain picture of domestic happiness she’s supposed to achieve. Man & woman. She wants it in that she likes Oliver personally, and because she wants to be happy.

However she feels there is something inside her, something in her nature, that bars her from that domestic happiness, and specifically from the sexual side of it. The other cat woman who greets her as “My sister” recognizes her at her post-wedding dinner and Irena denies her; based on the timing, it’s as if her sisterhood of the traveling panthers is a presence appearing to threaten her marriage, which she shoves aside.

Sister

Let’s notice the actual effects of Irena’s “affliction”, as opposed to what she says about it:

When it comes to Oliver, it prevents her being able to go to bed with him and prevents their domestic happiness, but he never causes her to turn into a panther.

Her panther side actually comes out for Alice, which the movie justifies by having her list of triggers suddenly include jealousy, and requires (it being made in the ‘40s) for Alice to be in love with Oliver. But primarily Alice is the career woman*, the one-of-the-boys woman, etc. Cough lesbian. So it seems like Irena’s much more “excited” by Alice than Oliver, and subtext-wise maybe jealous not of her relationship with her husband, but of her seeming to be self-accepting and sort of “out.”

(Forgive me.) Note also the PHALLIC SYMBOL! PHALLIC SYMBOL! imagery associated with the repression of Irena’s panther side; the statue of a King impaling the cat with a sword, and the drawing of hers we see at the end of the first scene, not of just a panther, but rather a panther being skewered with a sword! (I will remind you that for any movie with scenes in a psychiatrist’s office, all the psychosexual shit is on the table.)  Also Dr. Judd, who’s aligned with the repression as the psychiatrist brought in to “cure” her, has a swordstick (it’s a sword and a stick!) which he–sort of–kills her with.  At least, it get stuck in her, and she dies; symbolically it’s more like rape + suicide than a good plain American murder.

Catskewer

It’s a penis!

I could say more about this, the more I write about it the more it makes sense, not as the singular aha! interpretation, but one interpretation that does actually pan out really well.

*although Irena has a career too, but that feels more like the typical you-work-till-you-find-a-husband schtick.

Interpretation II: Pantherstition (Concurrence)

Pantherstition

And so but my (and my) [our] actual main interpretation of the movie is about Old World superstition and religion vs. fancy New World American “scientific” reality, a classic “technology … vs. horse” story. This has less bits of cutesy “evidence” than the lesbian reading, but is still stronger because it doesn’t need them: it corresponds to what’s actually happening on the literal level of the story. Irena really is from the Old World, she really is in the grip of a spiritual superstition. Her stories of witches and curses can’t survive modern life in New York; when she lets the panther out of its cage, it’s immediately flattened by a car. When the pool lights go back on, she’s just a woman and there’s no panther there.

And yet as the movie’s last line says, “She never lied to us”: the movie doesn’t force her to be wrong and slap itself in the face with the dead fish of a rational explanation. The story can’t let her survive modernity but can’t deny her validity either. Specific beliefs may not always stand up to the light, yet still resonate with something true and frightening, that most people would like to push aside and traipse onward in their happy American middle-class lives; perhaps with the reality of the spiritual in some form. Dr. Judd would prefer to say, with deep-repressed psychological urges towards death and darkness, with atavistic ancestral fears of predators and the dark … and he calls himself a psychiatrist.

***

I‘ll just point out quickly that both these interpretations, along with other viable ones we didn’t put in here, have the same basic core: there’s a picture of ideal American life, and something in Irena that excludes her from it. No one around her knows how to respond to the situation, and Irena herself feels confused and trapped–in fact feels that she must be evil and wrong because she doesn’t fit the mould. Whether you view it through the lens of mental illness, queerness, religion, or just immigration/assimilation, the criticism is of the whole ideal and what it leaves out or pushes into the shadows.

And however you read the subtext, it’s a damn entertaining movie.

May 28, 2016

Not Of This Earth (1988)

Jeremiah Review B-movie, Roger Corman, Sci-fi, Traci Lords 0 Comments

Not_of_this_earth_1988_poster_01
Produced by Roger Corman (who produced the 1957, 1988 and 1995 versions of this film, no joke)
Directed by Jim Wynorski.

This movie gets me.
When there’s theremin, 80’s drums and synth in the first 10 seconds of an alien invasion movie, you know at least one person knew what they were doing.

The movie starts like any good invasion movie should: in space, following a space whatnot hurtling toward earth.
Our token alien appears as a conspicuously nondescript man in a business suit with sunglasses and a silver briefcase, having taken on the completely average name of Mr. Johnson.
He needs human blood (to save his dying world/self) but has trouble getting it by going into a clinic and nonchalantly stating ‘I HAVE NO FEAR, I CAME FOR A TRANSFUSION OF BLOOD’. He decides to mind-enslave the doctor to discretely study his blood and–getting the vague notion of what a nurse does–he offers the nurse cash to come live with him in his house and preserve his life while the doctor conducts his studies looking for a cure for space-anemia.

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‘Hello Nurse!’ is played by one Traci Lords, whose adherence to the Italian/German age of consent apparently caused her American porn industry career some issues, and rumor has it this is her first mainstream (that is to say, non-pornographic) role, the interesting part of this trivia is that both the movie and presumably the audience of the time knows it and embraces it with bare breasts and loving arms. Her costumes are all impractical for whatever scene she is in (unless I’m woefully mistaken about the amount of cleavage or cashmere (what. what is it then? I don’t even know what you were looking at that made cashmere come to mind. Did you even read the fucking movie? What do you think cashmere is, it looks identical to other wool and I don’t even remember her wearing wool, nor would it be sexually suggestive if she did I said impractical, after dinner she is at the hospital making nurse-related calls in a fucking cashmere sweater, what do you want from me? Idk I haven’t rewatched that part yet Did you even read the fucking movie? (Also I said cashmere because of Ed Wood, it might not be cashmere.)
vlcsnap-2016-05-18-20h33m09s860you mean this shit? I don’t know what this is, I think she skinned a frost yeti. ANGORA – that’s the word, but yeah it might not be that either) that is normal for on-duty nurse attire), and almost all of her lines are either delivered in that fake suggestive or double entendre-laden lilt, even when there is nothing suggestive about them. To get even more meta (fuck you), the movie is self-aware of this, that is to say it is a conscious choice made by the director and actors to channel this ‘let’s watch a porn star in a real movie’ expectation into intentional camp. She’s pretty damn good at it too. In a sense, sexploitation that is owning up to what it is and doesn’t owe you a damn thing.

Also under Mr. Johnson’s vague mind-control is Jeremy, his chauffeur/slave.
Jeremy is the smarmy, phallic every-man, a sort of real-life Bugs Bunny with a raging erection, unabashedly desperate to be Ms. Traci’s Lord, while she counters his advances by rocking her hammed-up sassy spunk, reminiscent of any woman unlucky enough to be cast next to Harrison Ford in an action movie, except that the script doesn’t require her to fall for him in the end. (I love when she acts all smug and superior to him while asking him about Mr. Johnson (“Jeremy, exactly how much do you know about Mr. Johnson?”) as if she has it all figured out, when she knows exactly as nothing as he does.) (Yeah, it gets me off (too).)
Another golden line: “Shared paranoia doesn’t exactly make us Lodge brothers, Jeremy.”

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Jeremy’s costumes oscillate between full-on bellboy outfit with leather gloves*, and John McClane’s wifebeater and sideholster.
*Character note: Jeremy’s backstory is that he’s a petty crook, so the bellboy outfit is entirely his Bugs Bunny-esque decision; there is no reason to think Mr. Johnson ever instructed him on how to dress for his new job.

About midway through the movie a female alien is brought through Mr. Johnson’s space portal closet, fleeing their dying world. She gets a bathing suit instead of a suit suit, but they both have sunglasses so you can hardly call it prejudice.
Because she’s desperate for blood, Mr. Johnson takes her to the doctor’s office, but accidentally gives her rabid dog blood which was the subject of throwaway-dialogue earlier.
(The best thing about this is that the nurse or… phlebotomist? maybe just lady doctor? delivers this dialogue holding what looks to be a liter of blood, so they basically drained some dog bite victim of blood just so they could find out he had rabies.) (Gendry from Game of Thrones is from phlebotom) (…) (I’m just saying, they wanted his blood too) (You have a problem)
Once left on her own the female alien is accosted by a group of punks. One punk’s costume includes a kitchen knife and silk cape. Normally I would settle for ‘why the hell not?’, but the answer to that rhetorical question is that the next scene is taken from another Roger Corman movie where a woman is seen wearing a cape and wielding the knife chasing another woman through the streets. The clip-clops of their boots on the wooden walkways are deafening and the grim vampire/slasher film scene is set to music that sounds like an old NES game.
(This is the second full Robert Corman ‘stock footage’ scene of a woman losing her dog and being murdered that is recycled into this movie with no fucks given.)

The sound effects in this movie are whimsical and seem just plain happy to be part of the team.
Random space-sounding things are constant. Anything goes, from organ music going ‘dun-dun!’ to augment a line of unimportant dialogue, to the sound of a samurai sword unsheathing as a shirt falls from a hanger.
Just beautiful.

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“I can’t feel sorry for him. He had no emotions as we know them.”

This movie is filled with genuinely funny stuff, though I wouldn’t label it a comedy per se, and it hardly feels like the main purpose (if one can use that word here) of the film. The purpose is FUN, of which humor is a part but so is campiness and unapologetically making an alien invader movie, plus the superfluity of female flesh. My favorite part of this is that “Mr. Johnson” never shows any erotic interest in female humans but still decides to prey entirely on strippers and prostitutes for reasons completely external to his character, i.e. the movie makes these scenes happen purely because it wants them to, and makes no pretense otherwise.← I concur with these facts. → Also in the spirit of pure FUN and no-fucks-given is every time the aliens talk about their homeworld, and it’s all–what’s the galactic-politics equivalent of technobabble? They know they’re talking complete gibberish and they just go with it. The comedy isn’t tongue-in-cheek or in-your-face wink-winking chaotic annoying bullshit, it is honest whimsy from directors and actors. It is ‘we don’t give a shit’ craftsmanship, and knows exactly how seriously to take itself as a B-film.

Endearing me (but you know, also me) [us] to this film even more is that Wynorski bet Corman that he could remake his 1957 film with similar limitations to the original, so he filmed it in 11 days with the same budget (adjusted for inflation). The end result is a damn good B-movie that never pretends or needs to be anything more than what it set out to be, a heartfelt tip of the hat and contribution to low budget sci fi.

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Happy Birthday indeed.

May 25, 2016

Meet the Feebles (1989)

Alexander Review 80s, Peter Jackson, puppet syphilis, puppets 0 Comments

Meet the Feebles

Peter Jackson’s depraved puppet movie, Meet the Feebles, should, by rights, be the most incredible thing ever filmed. Like a kind of post-lapsarian Muppet show, it takes that show’s portrayal of backstage chaos one step further and shows the cast of the Feebles Variety Hour entangled in depravity, perversion, internal vendettas, and organized crime. It sounds magnificent–and we were all the more excited because we’d recently seen Jackson’s Dead Alive (1992), a hysterically beautiful zombie gorefest. Knowing what Peter was capable of in his depraved youth, and knowing the premise, the fact that Meet the Feebles turns out to be a repelling mediocrity was more or less soul-crushingly disappointing.

Just a turd.

Here’s the gist: the Ms. Piggy-style starlet of the show is a huge-breasted hippo puppet, who’s married to the owner of the troupe, a walrus, who’s fucking an alluring cat puppet about 15% of his size, while also engaged in a mob feud with a punk-ish coke-dealing hog with a Scottish accent. His grimy rat friend Trevor is running his porn business behind the scenes, and on the lookout for a new main attraction. The rabbit who hosts the Feebles Variety Hour is rotting grotesquely away from puppet syphilis, while an annoying fly representing the press hounds him. A Kermit-ish amphibian who does the knife-throwing act is going through coke withdrawal due to a dry-up of supply, and lapsing into Vietnam flashbacks. Meanwhile a naïve young hedgehog arrives to join the troupe, full of hope and optimism and almost giving us someone to care about in this movie. See, just reading this gets me excited about seeing it, and then I realize oh yeah… I did 🙁

So close.

So close.

This still might sound like a damned entertaining movie, and it probably could have been. It’s just that all these plots simply aren’t funny or even shocking. There were only four genuinely funny moments in the film:

  1. In the Vietnam flashback, when the Vietnamese soldiers are debating the finer points of socialist statecraft while roasting and eating captives (though the humor of this one moment doesn’t make up for how flat-out racist the Vietnamese puppets are).  yeah, it’s pretty uncomfortable.
  2. The Kermit-style guy finally getting his fix and shooting up in the bathroom, with a comically large syringe for his noodle-like puppet arm
  3. The hippo trying to hang herself, and awkwardly fitting the noose over her giant rectangular head.
  4. The rabbit running excitedly out of his room after learning he doesn’t have puppet syphilis after all, only to get gunned down immediately as the start of the closing killing spree.

That’s it. Knowing why these four moments work shows us why the rest of the movie doesn’t. In the last three, there’s actually something funny about the execution: some sight-gag or clever timing. In the first, there’s an actual contrast that creates absurdity, between the calm intellectual debate and the brutal goings-on.

"I still say that private enterprise is acceptable at a village level, provided it is strictly controlled by the party." -- an actual funny line

“I still say that private enterprise is acceptable at a village level, provided it is strictly controlled by the party.” — an actual funny line

Part of what makes the movie not funny or interesting is just crummy execution. The sound is pretty fucking horribly bad. People like to say that you only notice sound in a movie when it’s done badly, but I think most people don’t notice when it’s done badly either: they just notice that they feel bored, or not drawn into the movie. That’s the kind of bad sound we’re dealing with here, the kind that always feels a little distant and never gets you immersed in the movie’s world. The lighting is also bad; it’s constantly too dark and muddy, either to hide strings and imperfections in the puppets, or to set the grungy atmosphere of the film (and doing it fucking horribly wrong.)

The other problem is that that grungy atmosphere is pervasive. Even in the first scene, where the puppets are doing their happy opening number, the world around them is dark and hazy and shitty-looking, and when the music ends we plow directly into people puppets treating each other like shit. There’s basically no attempt at a bright foreground for the grimy underbelly of puppet show-biz to peep through; they depend on your awareness of the actual Muppet show to set the necessary contrast, but it just doesn’t work. For it to be surprising there has to be some expectation to subvert, but puppets acting shitty in an entire world of puppets acting shitty isn’t surprising.

Here's some puppet nudity, if that is what you came her for.

Here’s some puppet tits, if that’s what you wanted in this reading experience. We really hope its not 🙁

In the end, Meet the Feebles just feels like one of those grimy show-business/crime stories where everyone is shitty to everyone else, and there’s no point to anything. It’s the kind of story that makes you feel a little dirty and unenlightened when it’s made with human actors, and depends on the mere fact that it’s puppets to make it funny, over and over again. Too bad.  It’s just a regular shitty movie with puppets instead of people.  This is the first time I’d criticize a movie for a lack of irony– there’s no advantage taken: whether the actors are people, puppets or animals with CGI mouths, this movie would still suck and make you feel bad.

If you want to see some fucked-up puppets done right (on no higher of a budget) go watch Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared instead.

May 21, 2016

Fascination (1979)

Jeremiah Review 70's, Jean Rollin, Vampire 0 Comments

fascination.15624

But first a riddle:
What’s black and white and red all over?…

vlcsnap-2016-04-25-21h46m32s541

Two women in a slaughterhouse!

This shot from the first five lingering minutes of Fascination pretty much sums up our mostly-beloved director Jean Rollin’s style in a nutshell. It’s a beautifully framed and colored piece of bizarre art, a charming, macabre, drawn-out, actionless spectacle to behold.  As with most art for art’s sake, it means nothing except what the viewer decides it means after staring at it for too long.  That said, if you want a slow, subtitled stroll through some castles, vampires and tits, Jean is your guy.

This was the second Jean movie we had seen, and the most noticeable thing about him other than his film editing philosophy of “never cut” is that he is a mind reader.  About the time you’re thinking “god this is boring…. she should take her clothes off,” or “I think the dog should save them,” it happens, in front of you, as if bidden by your very own private thoughts.  This dipping in and out of your inner-voice makes his extended takes and pretty decent cinematography even more hypnotizing and startling at times, one might even say… Fascina-NOPE, not doing that. Thank you.

On with Fascination:

vlcsnap-2016-04-26-05h29m53s323In the early 1900’s, a band of thieves are betrayed by their guy-from-Clockwork Orange cohort, who escapes their guild with a box of pilfered gold.  With the less stylish crooks in hot pursuit, he decides to hide out in a beautiful mansion and finds it occupied by two women, Eva and Elisabeth.

This is a common thread in Jean’s movies – the criminal or streetwise/cynic protagonist escapee (possibly representing naïve realism/humanity if you wanna get into all that shit) stumbling into a mansion of metaphysical importance (symbolizing a mansion of metaphysical importance.)

Also prominently featured in ‘Jean movies’ are a set of twin… minxes? What do you call a thing that looks like a girl or woman but is clearly just a vampire wanting to eat you? My ex-wife! ha! Um.

vlcsnap-2016-04-25-22h01m11s353

Eva and Elisabeth don’t seem too alarmed about being held captive at gunpoint, and keep mentioning that the owner of the mansion will be coming home that night and that the thief should be long gone by then.
He locks them in a room and they decide to have lesbian sex while they wait out the next beat of the plot–the kind of moment where you’re not sure if the movie told you to want this, or if you wanted it all along and Jean just read your thoughts and gave you lesbians.

Aftersex, they leave their room because they had a spare key all along, and play games turning the tables on their armed captor, Eva once again advocates for her own rape, successfully this time, while Elisabeth steals the thief’s gun, but in her unguarded moments seems a bit jealous of her lover being shared, and paradoxically, also a bit concerned for the well-being of the man who is (completely consensually) raping her lover.
Afterrapewhich, Elisabeth once again warns the thief that death is coming to that house and that he should fucking get the hell out, to which he doesn’t reply.

The besieging bandits force an exchange of the stolen-stolen gold, and Eva nonchalantly proffers herself for rape once again but then proceeds to reap the entire band of miscreants, hence this movie’s glorious cover art – the shot that made you say, “fuck yeah, I’ll watch that!”
vlcsnap-2016-04-25-22h43m56s183

Though Eva has fervently lain with our misogynistic hero, only Elisabeth seems to truly care about his dumb ass, constantly warning him that he should leave the mansion and that Eva is trying to stall him from leaving; this perversely intrigues the fool to stay and see what will happen next, and after sunset the mistress of the mansion arrives.
vlcsnap-2016-04-25-22h51m42s689

We quickly get the sense that our thiefy protagonist is a mouse cockily flirting with a harem of cats who are all speaking of ‘having him for dinner’.  And after he makes some quip about how silky and feline their fur is, they say again ‘look, we’re gonna eat you, just so you know’, to which he smiles, shakes his mousey head and sips some wine.*
*At a certain point all analogies break down, it’s just how they work.

The rest of the coven arrives, in full seance gear, telling him flat out that he will die, they worship death, this is their annual sacrifice, and these are his final hours. He takes this all very lightheartedly and asks no questions of any relevance, apparently thinking it’s all a joke (“its all” in this sentence refers to women, spirituality, ritual murder, and his own life.) This is one of the movies that cemented our habit of yelling ‘”What do you mean?” He promptly asked.’ at the screen.

vlcsnap-2016-04-25-23h01m25s795

Only when he finds the murdered corpse of one of the bandits does he decide he’s not having fun anymore and begins to leave.
Eva is sent to axe him (yes literally, because it’s that kind of movie) but is betrayed by Elisabeth, the bitch, and shot.  Her blood attracts the coven who choose to eat her instead of their victim or traitor.
Elisabeth flees with Dickwad before she realizes she loved Eva and never loved him so she shoots him too, and is accepted back into the mansion after reporting that he killed Eva and she avenged her.

The downright joy we get from most of Jean Rollin’s movies comes from the fun he has with his vampires: we love vampires and his are some of the best in the biz (technically the women in this movie are never explicitly called vampires–they might just be a cult of women who upgraded from cow to human blood, but, Palm or Christmas, a tree’s a tree.)  Surprisingly unique in each of his movies, his takes on blood-drinkers and their supernatural kin are usually just damn interesting, and fit well with his directorial style that teeters between plodding and dreamlike.

vlcsnap-2016-04-25-23h07m41s647When confined to interior sets, Jean likes symmetry and color, like a slightly less annoying Wes Anderson.

Jean has a good eye for castles, graveyards, and other ruinous environments he finds in France, these are often wide shot and blandly lit or colored, and given small, brightly costumed people wandering through them.  It seems in a visual sense he gets joy from giving life to a crypt, by sowing bright actors in a desolate field.  This usually lends itself to fun composition, as a small dot of light will travel from one end to the other of a bland wasteland – can you see why he “gets” vampires yet? – and his inability to yell ‘cut!’ to end a shot makes you marinate in his world and start to accept a slower pace that either makes you feel relaxed and artsy or bored and frustrated (sometimes a bit of both) depending on why you came to his films.

May 18, 2016

Female Vampire (1975)

Alexander Review, The Big Picture 1970s, female vampire, Jess Franco, Lina Romay, sexploitation, vampires 0 Comments

Female Vampire[Before anything:

Netflix Review excerpt:

“Let’s put it this way: Lina Romay has sex with a bed. Not in a Linda Blair meets the cross kind of way. This woman seduces and ravishes a bed. It … is …incredible.” – 3 out of 5 stars.  28 out of 28 found this review helpful.

Netflix Full Review:

“My first review. GREAT body. Nice close up shots. Firm, perky b r e a s t. Watch it. 1 January 2014” 3 out of 5 stars.  3 out of 4 found this review helpful.

You can read my longer thoughts on this film below, but these two Netflix users pretty much said what matters. (Unfortunately, the movie is no longer on Netflix in the US.)]

Jess Franco’s Female Vampire is, if not one of the great movies, at least one of the great cinematic experiences of all time. We turned to this movie directly after Nightmares Come at Night piqued our interest in Franco, and immediately we recognized the same hand at work: the same motifs (not to say tics), the same incessant zooming, the same disregard for common good taste.

We begin in a misty wood, and towards the camera comes a woman who will change your life: Lina Romay. She is wearing the following articles of clothing: a thin, black cape, hanging down her back; a wide black belt around her hips; and black boots. The costume designer, like a good prose editor, recognized that everything in between was filler, and cut it. Like a Grecian statue, she needs nothing but her defining attributes. As she approaches the camera, Jess pans down her body directly to the dark triangle of her Godhead, then back up. After he’s done panning and zooming all over her, she keeps walking toward the camera until she literally bumps into the lens. No one cuts it out.  eep! 🙂

Whatever a “good movie” is supposed to be, we are not in a world where that matters.

There is no world where being Lina Romay does not matter. Our world is better for having contained her; the world of Female Vampire revolves around her. She was born (in our world) as Rosa Maria Almirall, and took the name of a jazz singer after meeting Jess (who also took many of his pseudonyms from jazz musicians.) At the time of filming this movie, she was only nineteen, and had never taken (taken) the lead in a film before, though she played smaller parts in previous Franco movies like Tendre et perverse Emmanuelle (1973). In this debut, she proves her willingness to do absolutely anything on camera; later in their careers her generosity may have let Jess get away with too much.

After her long march towards the camera, Lina goes on to wordlessly seduce, fellate, and kill a local chicken farmer, before flying away as a bat (not pictured). The next morning, we see her getting dressed—in a special, nobler sense of the word that means “robed in sheer white cloth.” At the same time, our other would-be protagonist, a poet (Jack Taylor) who has come to Madeira (this movie is set on Madeira by the way) in search of some kind of transcendence, is grooming his magnificent ’70s mustache.  (What a Mustache! might actually be his character’s name.)

Just ... just look at it.

Just … just look at it.

A bikini-clad reporter approaches Lina by the hotel pool and they have an interview back up in Lina’s rooms. We learn that she (Lina) is the Countess Irina Karnstein (a descendant, presumably, of the vampire family from Carmilla) and a mute. She answers by gracious, imperious nods and slow shakes of the head as the reportress asks typical reporterly questions like:“Do you think this affliction is a consequence of the curse that has weighed on your family for centuries?” and “Do you feel ill at ease being the descendant of a family of vampires?” When asked how she feels about her ancestors’ bloody deeds, she gives the coyest, subtlest smile you’ve ever seen.

Here is a blurry version of it.

Here is a blurry version of it.

Uncle Jess himself appears as Dr. Roberts, presumably the coroner, meeting with the inspector to discuss the dead chicken man from earlier. In this scene, he utters the following line: “he was bitten… in the middle of an orgasm. The vampire sucked his semen and his life away.” There’s something incredible about this moment. This line sounds like it belongs in a porn parody of a vampire movie, not a serious vampire film. But Jess knows better. He knows sexual subtext is a waste of good text. Leaving sexual content all coy and unspoken (and unshown) makes sex too important. If you hide sex behind your story, your story ends up being only about sex; and if you’re making a story about sex, you might as well admit it and not waste everyone’s time. Sex here isn’t the god in the hidden sanctuary, it’s the public worship going on out front, as awkward as prayer.  (THIS)

post-(mortem/coital)

What are we filming today, Jess?

People reviewing Franco movies talk about his bad simulated sex scenes, but that phrase seems to miss the point. It implies that Jess cares about simulating sex, which he clearly doesn’t; dicks that flop into view are clearly flaccid, genital areas don’t even remotely line up, actresses moan with pleasure while no one is touching any of their erogenous zones whatsoever. In terms of making it look like there’s really a penis going into a vagina somewhere, we’re way outside the realm of failure and into the realm of not trying to do that. It’s not poorly faked , it’s … emblematic: you’re seeing something that clearly represents two people having sexual intercourse, but just as clearly isn’t (cough*).  When I think of badly simulated sex, I think of the typical Hollywood or TV sex scene, where the whole bottom half of the body is carefully kept out of frame, and sights of even nipples (if allowed) are calculated and dripped out with an eyedropper. Is the premeditated Hollywood sex more artful? Not if exuberance is beauty.  (I for one choose exuberant death!)

(*I say it IS poorly faked though, and it’s one of the examples where the natural filmmaking awkwardness -of having a sex scene without showing sex- in the Jess version of filmmaking purely accidentally transcends itself becoming graphic, silly and gratuitous… but as opposed to what? Then you start wondering what you’re used to seeing in ‘this kind of scene’ and it becomes -again, purely accidentally- artistic criticism on censorship and the Hollywood norms you’ve shoved in your face since birth, which are even more silly and downright patronizing when simulating intimacy and/or coitus.  Uncle Jess would never lie to us.)

The movie goes skin-deeper when Dr. Roberts goes to meet a colleague, Dr. Orloff, meant to be the son of the Dr. Orloff from one of Jess’s first directorial efforts, Gritos en la Noche / The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962). The younger Orloff is blind, and a delver into forbidden things: “Oh, I search, and sometimes in the darkness I find the answers that in the light one cannot find.” Roberts asks him about the Countess, whom Orloff has sensed is on the island. “Is she alive?” asks Dr. Roberts, and Dr. Orloff replies to him and to us, “Are you alive?” These two doctors are possibly my favorite part of this movie, and almost any movie.

Two phones, a dagger, and a model ship -- everything a doctor needs on his desk.

Two phones, a dagger, and a model ship — everything a true doctor needs on his desk.

They get better in one of their later scenes, when Orloff tells Roberts more about the occult and the vampiric Countess, and Roberts is compelled to say, “But what you say is more than terrifying. The demons must be killed, and it must be forever.” Dr. Orloff replies, spectacularly: “What for? How are we to know that the pleasure isn’t worth life itself? Why fight against it?”

It is at this point in the viewing that I exclaimed “This man knows! He gets it! He knows!” I meant both Dr. Orloff and Jess, who seems to understand the forces that drag other vampire writers around, uncomprehending as marionettes.

Jack Taylor’s poet knows too. He falls in love with the vampiress not despite, but because of what she is. When he asks her, “Will you take me with you someday, behind the mist?” he wants a relationship with the Countess that is denied him; he can never be her equal partner or live in her world. But he understands that she is worthy of his worship, worth becoming food for.

Linaface

Look. (Sure, I’ll call that a transition.) What is a vampire, and what is its fascination? It is the sexiness of the abstracted idea of evil purged of the dullness of actual, real-life evil. Evil is boring, uncreative, ugly, normal; the imagination, attempting to comprehend its terrors, creates an image that is everything evil isn’t: beautiful, austere, brimming with vital fire. An image for sin’s seductiveness becomes simply a seductive image; a vampire ceases to stand for anything except a vampire. The doctor who thinks he can see is a literalist, and wants to hunt down the beautiful monster because surely it stands for something; the blind doctor Orloff knows better, and is right to answer, “What for?”

May 14, 2016

XTRO (1982)

Jeremiah Review 80s, B-movie, Horror, Sci-fi 0 Comments

Xtro
We were introduced to this body-snatcher alien-invasion gem via Red Letter Media’s Best of the Worst episode, and it’s brightened our world forever since.  It’s the brainchild of British director Harry Bromley Davenport, who’s responsible not only for story and direction but also the film’s adorably ’80s synth soundtrack.

xtro3The movie starts with a man (Philip Sayer) and his son (Simon Nash) playing fetch in the yard; they rip a hole in space and the rift sucks the man in.
A few years later his wife Rachel (Bernice Stegers), believing he left them, has a shitty Bob Dylan-look-a-like boyfriend named Joe (Danny Brainin) (N.B.: Everyone hates Joe) and a pretty but disinterested French au pair, Analise (Maryam d’Abo – pictured below).

xtro girlCan we take a moment of silence and thank our higher powers that this picture was taken?

The son, Tony, is still having nightmares about his father, convinced that he is alive and coming back for them someday.
An alien crashes to earth (this is back in the good old days when aliens still drove meteors instead of these fancy doodads and gizmos they have now) and of course murders the first people he gets his hands on, stealing their car and clothes.

xtro2He then finds the requisite isolated woman, impregnates her with himself, and she dies giving birth to the fully adult human father from before. Meanwhile the kid wakes up covered in blood, telling the concerned adults that “daddy sent it.”
If you haven’t figured it out yet, you are in for some seriously awesome shit here.xtro10The father, now in human form and stolen clothes, tries to reconnect with his family. He convinces his wife that he has no recollection of where he’s been, though Joe doesn’t believe it for a second. The father squabbles with Joe and eats his son’s pet snake’s eggs (because this is that kind of movie) then, in an incredibly creepy scene, he breathes alien life into his son’s shoulder.xtro4This makeup effect, which feels like someone just peeled open your back to directly lick your spine with a very cold tongue, is the second of two moments (along with the full-grown father emerging head-first from a woman’s vagina) that gave that feeling of “this movie is doing shit we’ve never seen.”
After this–infusion–the kid develops psychic powers, kills the old woman in the apartment below (vengeance for his pet snake who met a nasty demise), basically cleans out his whole apartment with terrifying possessed toys (and a FUCKING panther! :D) brought to life with his alien-augmented imagination, and uses these toy servants to turn the au pair into a human egg factory.
xtro9

Joe finds a link between the father and the people he murdered, but not before the father’s human form starts decomposing during coitus in his final goodbye with the mother.
Joe is subdued via psychic blast, and the mother looks on as father and son ascend the stars in a glowing triangle of paternal love.
xtro7

At heart Xtro is a movie about a father who loves his son, and only his son, and comes back for him from beyond the whatever to take him back to (perhaps a more enlightened?) extraterrestrial life.
The director’s original ending had the wife come home to see the au pair’s eggs had hatched into multiple versions of her son (which sounds to me like the son’s farewell gift of ‘here’s some sons to replace the me you lost’) and therefore making this once again a film about love and family.
The producer cut that because of bad visual effects and just had the movie end where the story ends with the father and son leaving.
But then the director created the released ending of the mother coming home to find the eggs calling her mommy, whereupon she gets Alien-face-fucked by an egg, presumably impregnated by her son so that he can come back and make her an alien too… or kill her trying?  Not sure how that all works out.

xtro11This movie goes that extra mile to show you not just things you’ve never seen before, but things you’ve been afraid to think of, whether that be evil midget clowns in a child’s bedroom or murderous toy soldiers expressionlessly murdering old women.
You start watching this movie laughing at some of its effects, acting, and “oldness” and end up saying, “touché, movie, I cannot handle what you’re dishing out.” The result is a uniquely thrilling cinematic experience.

This is prime MST3K fodder, but for me personally, Xtro might have been the tipping point (along with 1988’s Not of this Earth) to where the thought of watching this type of lower budget scifi movie with a Mystery Science Theater dub now seems as psychologically and artistically insulting as adding a laugh track. Most people can find it in themselves to laugh at poorly made movies without help, but making an extraneous heckler the lens through which you view a movie obliterates the opportunity for you to experience it, in all its bumpy uneven details, and therefore judge or appreciate it.

xtro girl 2

May 11, 2016

Nightmares Come At Night / Les Cauchemars Naissent La Nuit (1972)

Alexander Review, The Big Picture 70's, Jess Franco, journey, Review, Soledad Miranda, trash film 0 Comments

Nightmares Come At Night

This came up on our Netflix recommendations after watching some trashy B-movie lost even to our forgiving history. Its title (it sounds less ridiculous in French, but who wants that?) and cover were irresistible; they promised pure trash. We didn’t expect something so disorientingly beautiful.

This was our entree into the work of Jesús “Jess” Franco, a man of many names and no taste. Estimates of his total output vary, but he himself placed it at over 200 movies, released under the names Jesús Franco, Jess Franco, Jess Frank, Clifford Brown, David Khune, James P. Johnson, and many more, including variants of all the above. Other than a few well-produced studio efforts, they were filmed on tiny and declining budgets, one movie often Frankensteined together from fragments filmed experimentally while working on others. It’s an intimidating, confusing-as-balls filmography, so a good entry point is worth something—and Nightmares was fascinating enough to get us hooked.

After opening credits with more unabashed nudity than a whole 21st-century American movie, plus disorienting zooms and camera effects (on stills, no less,) we encounter a cageful of birds. From there we cut to our sleeping heroine, Anna (Diana Lorys) and zoom into her nightmare. With that we’re straight into the sex and murder (sexmurder, the pros call it) and from then on we’re kept blissfully bewildered.

Our heroine

I woke up like this

When she wakes up, we meet her lover Cynthia (Colette Giacobine), and then Paul the doctor (Jess Franco regular Paul Muller.) The whole middle of the movie is Anna telling Paul the history of her and Cynthia, but because that history jumps in time and includes her own earlier conversations with Paul, it makes the structure of the story seem more convoluted than it is. The long flashback begins with Anna’s past stripping in a nightclub in Zagreb, and the weirdly sterile (but inventive) striptease sequence lasts almost 10 of the movie’s 85 minutes–you do the math and tell us this isn’t art. Diana Lorys seems to have been told to slowly writhe and (occasionally) strip on a table while Jess masturbates and plays with the zoom lens.

Art?

She invents whole new fetishes out of boredom

We see the story through dreams, flashbacks, recountings—we see the actual events through mirrors, cage bars, gauzy veils. We also hear the dialogue through an atrocious English dub that only enhances the movie’s off-putting strangeness. In one scene in the long middle flashback, Anna and Cynthia have their first conversation, but Anna’s narration cuts in over every line as soon as it starts, overwriting the dialogue (even though it was clearly written and recorded) with a synopsis of that dialogue. It undermines our trust in Anna and increases the mystery around Cynthia and her purposes, while reminding us of the artifice of the movie we’re watching—everything Jess likes in his most intellectually ambitious mode, which, unlike with many directors, is arguably his best.

Fairly typical shot

Fairly typical shot

The nudity and sex in this movie has a kind of innocence to it—I mean like Garden-of-Eden innocence. The camera may seem to embody the male gaze, but the characters have never heard of it, and wear exactly as much clothing as seems natural and comfortable in what must be a very warm house. The body-loving camera doesn’t understand about objectification either, but just laps at their skin like an excited puppy.

The form of True Clothing emerges from the matter of cloth

Anna puts this sheet on sari-style, and Jess films the entire process and puts it in the movie, out of apparently pure fascination.

Right from the first, we could tell that this was a director who made exactly the kind of movie he liked, who knew what he was into and would put it on the screen. He likes nude women and sometimes men, he likes birds, he likes mirrors, and he likes incessantly zooming in and out in a way that’s been tactfully described as “improvisational.” Many people don’t like his movies, for legitimate or illegitimate reasons. There are plenty of reasons not to make a Jess Franco movie, and Jess’s defining characteristic is that he doesn’t listen to any of them. He works without moderation, without prudishness, without conscience, without taste or caution, without feminist qualms; sometimes without coherent vision. Without, without, without.

The result is that Jess Franco movies, like B-/cult/trash cinema in general, are an insanely mixed bag of absolute garbage and wonders you’d never otherwise see. I’d give up a fair amount to unsee his worst movies, but I wouldn’t give up his best ones. Nightmares Come at Night is one of them, and it’s one of the best places to start.

March 1, 2016

COMING SOON, CHILL

Alexander Uncategorized

We know. It's ok.

We know. It’s ok.

Calm down, we’re working on it, what do you expect from us. You can’t just expect two adult human beings to write and publish content for a blog, I mean what world do you live in. Settle down, crack open a physical book with pages and wait in relaxation. Let Alice Arno show you how it’s done.

 

Screenshot (174)

See? It’s easy.

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